Quotes About Cityscape

Cities are about juxtaposition.

The view from the apartment's one window was of another building's gray ferroconcrete wall, which was intermittently lit by the white neon flicker from the Ringer Hut noodle shop sign across the street. As

I was gazing at: Brighton Beach Avenue, a four-lane road below the elevated train, was lined with endless storefronts—delis, hair salons, bookstores, dentists, funeral homes, palm readers—

It looks like the whole city is made out of stars.

Ulica Krokodyli by?a koncesj? naszego miasta na rzecz nowoczesno?ci i zepsucia wielkomiejskiego. Widocznie nie sta? nas by?o na nic innego, jak na papierow? imitacj?, jak na fotomonta? z?o?ony z wycinków zle?a?ych, zesz?orocznych gazet.

When I look at 'Fallen Angels,' I realize it is not a film that is truly about Hong Kong. It's more like my Hong Kong fantasy. I want Hong Kong to be quiet, with less people.

The vast southern city they lived in was rich in land, poor in everything else—no bodies of water, no drainage, no hills, no topographical variety of any sort, no public transportation or even the awareness of the lack of such a thing.

We have to rethink the way we light our cities. We have to think again about light as a default solution. Why are all these motorways permanently lit? Is it really needed? Can we maybe be much more selective and create better environments that also benefit from darkness? Can we be more gentle with light?

I had an overwhelming sense of the lonliness of this city - a trillion souls in their bedrooms, high in the cliffs of windows. I thought of what was underneath it all - I thought of the electricty cables, steam, water, fire, subway trains and lava in the city's guts, the subterranean rumbling of trains and earthquakes. I thought of the dead souls from the war, concreted over.

Yes, Manila had its slums; one saw them on the drive from the airport: vast districts of men in dirty white undershirts lounging idly in front of auto-repair shops — like a poorer version of the 1950s America depicted in such films as Grease .

They were achingly beautiful, these ghostly cities—New York, Rio, Shanghai, Paris—under their stains of stars, images as though from an epoch before electricity, but with the buildings of today. Whether they looked like the past, or the present, or the future, she couldn't decide.

I carried the trace of her lips, of her breath on my skin through streets full of faceless people escaping from offices and shops.

Page and page I let the spell of the story and its world take me over, until the breath of dawn touched my window and my tired eyes slid over the last page. I lay in the bluish half-light with the book on my chest and listened to the murmur of the sleeping city. My eyes began to close, but I resisted. I did not want to lose the story's spell or bid farewell to its characters yet.

Page after page I let the spell of the story and its world take me over, until the breath of dawn touched my window and my tired eyes slid over the last page. I lay in the bluish half-light with the book on my chest and listened to the murmur of the sleeping city. My eyes began to close, but I resisted. I did not want to lose the story's spell or bid farewell to its characters yet.

Left Bank Astana was beautiful at night, each building, it seemed, with its own nighttime color scheme and the street lamps all going full blast.

Big cities do evoke a sense of menace.

I've been to the Empire State Building with four friends, and it was very beautiful at that time around midnight.

Out the window in the distance, contradicting the prairie, a mirage of downtown Chicago ascended to a kind of lurid acropolis, its light as if from nightly immolation warped to the red end of the spectrum, smoldering as if always just about to explode into open flames.

Any day you walk down a street and find nothing new but nothing missing counts as a good day in a city you love.

Ah remember walkin along Princes Street wi Spud, we both hate walkin along that hideous street, deadened by tourists and shoppers, the twin curse ay modern capitalism.

downtown Johannesburg just looked like a large Muirhouse-in-the-sun to

Clearly, then, the city is not a concrete jungle, it is a human zoo.

If you would know and not be known, live in a city.

To look at the cross-section of any plan of a big city is to look at something like the section of a fibrous tumor.